On the appointed evening the guest of honor was the last to arrive, and the others were in such a state of expectancy they could not settle down to an examination of Miss Betty's puzzle drawer with which she usually entertained her young guests until supper was announced. Miss Betty, who adored puzzles and problems of all kinds, was continually adding to her collection, and this evening there was a brand new one, brought from the city only the day before; but even Belle, who was especially good at puzzles, and besides affected not to care about Rosalind Whittredge, could not keep her eyes from the window.
The application of French chalk had been successful, and she wore her blue and white silk; Katherine, in her blue muslin, with ribbons to match on her smooth braids, wished her mother had been more impressed with the importance of the occasion. Charlotte was complacent in her white dress with a large ribbon bow on top of her head, in a new fashion just received from her cousin in Baltimore.
"That's the way Rosalind wears hers," whispered Katherine.
The boys fingered the puzzles and talked about the ball game to be played to-morrow, but they shared the feeling of anticipation. Their hostess bustled back and forth.
"Children," she said, pausing in the door, "I want you to be as nice as possible to Rosalind. Remember she is a stranger, and we wish her to have a pleasant impression of Friendship."
"Here she is!" announced Belle, and the rest crowded around the window.
"There's Miss Genevieve," whispered Charlotte; "girls, she is coming in!"
The Whittredge carriage had stopped before the gate and Miss Genevieve, a marvel of grace in soft chiffons that rippled and curled about her slender height and emphasized the fairness of her skin, was actually escorting her niece to the door.
"Isn't she lovely?" sighed Charlotte, in an ecstasy.
"Not so sweet as Miss Celia," said loyal Belle.